


Various

by dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, the inquisitor and the consular are the same person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-10-24 19:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10748691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree/pseuds/dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree
Summary: This is really just going to wind up as a collection of stuff I write for my SWtOR characters. Mostly unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine and I fully own up to them.





	1. The Pursuit of Absolute Truth

Thavis entered the quarters he shared with Master Par, turning the sharp red crystal over in his hands. He'd removed it from his sabre upon arrival on Tython, but kept it close. It was a reminder to Thavis, of who he had been. 

Who he'd been. His lips twisted in a wry smile. He'd been a respected member of the dark council, loved and feared in equal measure. Sometimes, he could still feel those memories scraping around at the back of his mind, wondering when he'd allowed himself to be so weakened by the Jedi. 

Soft footfalls alerted him to the presence of Qyzen, Master Par's Trandoshan friend. The alien stopped in front of him, single yellow eye focused on him with an intensity that brought to mind Khem Val. _Khem..._ Thavis thought, dropping the crystal into his pocket. _Khem. Wonder how he's doing. Waiting for his master's return, no doubt._ He threw a small smile to Qyzen. All these years, and he still had no idea how to read Trandoshans.

"Small hunter is well?" Qyzen asked, head tilting. Thavis felt a small flash of irritation. He was many things, but _small_ was not one of them. He swallowed his pride and nodded. 

"Yes, Qyzen. I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Is negative thinking, like Yuon does when a dig goes wrong." A statement, instead of a question. Thavis slipped his hand into his pocket and ran a finger over the crystal. Qyzen was disturbingly perceptive at times.

"Again, yes. It will pass, though, as all emotions do."

The Trandoshan nodded, apparently content with the former Sith's answer. 

"Would want to talk?" _Nevermind._ Thavis gripped the crystal in his pocket. He had been looking forward to an evening to himself, but it would seem the Force had other ideas, as so often seemed the case as of late.

"Not necessarily, Qyzen, although the sentiment is appreciated. I think I just need to meditate."

The Trandoshan nodded again and Thavis took the lull in the conversation to duck into his room. He pulled the crystal out of his pocket and set it on his nightstand. Jedi robes, he mused, were useful for many reasons. His favorite, so far, was definitely smuggling Sith artifacts. Thavis knelt by his bed, tugging the large outer robe off his shoulders and letting it pool around his knees. He then pulled his over and under shirts off, exposing his chest to the gentle breeze drifting through his window.

Tython, he decided, was soft in all the places Korriban was hard. Quiet wind, soft grass, pale blue skies with puffy white clouds. Even the Flesh Raiders were softer than the K'lor'slugs from the tombs. How any Jedi was expected to handle the harsh realities of the real world were beyond him. Tython did not breed warriors.

Muffled voices alerted him to the presence of Master Par, and Thavis dragged his thoughts back to the routine they'd set up - start with a tenet of the Sith code and find a way to prove it wrong with the Jedi code. Ineffective, but it made Master Par happy, so he played along. He was largely confused as to why the Jedi, who claimed to be such an enlightened people, shied away from what they considered "dangerous knowledge". It was like a lightsabre. A tool, to be used when appropriate and kept clean and ready when not appropriate. As Ashara had pointed out on many an occasion, both the Jedi and Sith orders had glaring issues. To try and claim one was superior to the other...it hadn't sat well with her, and it didn't sit well with him.

Too often he had seen a Jedi torn apart by their code. Too often he had seen a Sith riding high on excess power. Unbalanced, unprepared. That was why he'd joined the Jedi. He hoped to one day find that balance within himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There is no such source of error as the pursuit of absolute truth." - Samuel Butler
> 
> Fair warning, I play fast and loose with the continuity of things. Chances are, I don't know when stuff is supposed to be taking place, and I am eternally sorry if that causes any issues


	2. A Rare Benedictine

They were on the Belsavis orbital station, about to step through the airlock onto the Endeavour when he first suggested it. Lomion stopped and looked back, incredulity bleeding through the knight's carefully constructed walls. The man had simply shaken his head before boarding his ship, and that ended the discussion fairly succinctly.

The second time Scourge brought it up, he was pinned to the floor of the cargo hold after a vigorous training session. He'd dragged his eyes over what he could see of Lomion's form, taking in the sight of the knight breathing heavy and the scent of their combined sweat, before letting the question fall from his lips. The Jedi had scrambled off him and donned his robe, covering the form-fitting tunic with the formless uniform of his order. Then he'd left, pale skin painted with a deep blush that Scourge knew wasn't entirely the result of their training.

Scourge supposed making his Jedi flustered was hindering his cause, making Lomion less likely to be reasoned with. Truth be told, Scourge didn't quite care. Sure, training the Jedi to one day defeat the Emperor was his main goal, but as he'd said before, facilitating the man's fall to the dark side was an amusing past-time. It was as entertaining as it was infuriating to watch Lomion do good to spite him, and it was thrilling to feel hints of the knight's anger.

There was no third time. They were on Tython, taking a respite after Corellia to regroup and plan, and Scourge was in the temple's largest training room. Waiting. Watching. No padawans had entered, and the Sith chalked that up to dawn barely breaking - they'd most likely be in classes. He felt the familiar presence of his Jedi and turned to look at the entrance. Sure enough, there Lomion stood, the rays of sun beginning to spill over the walls causing his robes to seem richer in tone and his dark brown hair to take on golden highlights. The man was beautiful, and Scourge thought it a crying shame that he'd dedicated his life to a largely celibate order.

The man tossed something to him, and the Sith's eyes widened as he realized what it was. A small smile played around his lips.

"So you agree?"

The Jedi scowled before answering, "Just explain what exactly this is supposed to do for me."

Algae-green eyes tracked Scourge as he moved closer.

"To help you understand how weak you truly are in comparison to the Emperor, and how you can counter that weakness-"

"By limiting my ability to use the Force? That's hardly fair."

Scourge set the collar on a nearby pedestal before reaching out to remove Lomion's robe. The Jedi shied away, earning him a pointed look. He shrugged out of it and hung it on the same pedestal.

"The Emperor is not fair, Jedi. Turn."

Lomion did so and a hiss and a gasp later, the collar was firmly in place around his neck, active. Scourge hed felt the Jedi's presence fade, but it was nothing compared to what Lomion felt, if the slight stumble was anything to go by. He allowed his fingers to linger a little on his Jedi's neck, relishing the small resultant shiver, before moving to the wall of training swords. He selected two and tossed them to Lomion.

Scourge glanced back when he heard a muffled curse and saw the man picking one of the blades up. He raised an eyebrow. Lomion gave an irritated huff before falling into a ready stance. The Sith ignited his sabre and circled into position, watching Lomion's eyes widen.

"Scourge, this isn't an equal fight, at least use a training blade."

"The Emperor won't be using a training blade."

"Neither will I - !" He cut himself off with a yelp as Scourge leapt at him, sabre humming. He stumbled back, barely blocking the blow. Scourge felt his fear at the realization that this was a fight for survival - and that the odds were stacked harshly against him. It was a worthwhile emotion, the Sith mused, but not particularly useful right now. He drew back, feinted to Lomion's right, then looped around to his left. The Jedi parried and shifted so that he was once again facing Scourge.

They continued to spar as the sun rose over them. By midmorning, Lomion was red-faced and gasping, weaker from having lost full contact with the Force. He was still, Scourge thought, a shockingly good combatant. Anyone watching could see that - the padawans that had gathered were sure to learn something, even if it was how to loose with grace. Scourge felt a familiar righteous anger, and a brief glance confirmed the presence of Master Kaeden in all his glowering glory. He barely blocked the blade whizzing towards him, and felt impressed that his Jedi had actually pressed that small advantage. Still, it delighted him to know the masters would be furious at the paragon of their order being so visibly beaten by a Sith.

"Lomion," he said.

Parry, attack.

"Scourge," came the labored reply.

"Explain, 'Peace is a lie, there is only passion'."

It was a testament to how exhausted Lomion was when he didn't give any argument about the evils of the Sith code. He merely grimaced and dodged Scourge's blow.

"There are ups and downs in life. There is no true and permanent calm, even within ourselves."

Side-step, feint, parry.

"'Through passion, I gain strength'." Lomion glanced at him. Scourge pressed the attack.

"Gah. Through our understanding of this internal instability, we become better equipped to survive it. Through understanding the imbalance in ourselves, we gain strength over ourselves."

Attack, surprise riposte, parry. Scourge could feel the subtle change in the Jedi's thoughts, and he had a feeling he knew where they had gone. Lomion was no longer on Tython - he was back over Corellia, dueling Master Tol Braga. The Sith knew Lomion still held guilt over the outcome of that encounter, the man had entered a deep depression after killing the kel dor. It was a distraction from the situation on hand, and Scourge had no qualms about exploiting it. If the knight wanted to give in to such weakness, he would suffer the consequences.

"Through strength I gain power." He could sense the pain rolling off Lomion as he struggled to keep up with both Scourge and the disturbing direction his thoughts had taken. If he could not overcome this agony, though, he could not expect to fight the Emperor and live. The Jedi grit his teeth, ignoring the wave of sadness that washed over him. Now was not the time to regret past decisions. He'd made them, he had to live with them, but they were seriously starting to hamper him. He threw another glance at Scourge as he dove out of the way of the fiery red sabre.

"You're not truly powerful if you're not strong enough to keep a handle on it," he gasped out, hoping that answer would satisfy Scourge. The Sith remained silent. He would have growled if he had the energy. "I have the ability to take on great challenges, but I'm not strong enough to harness that ability, so it's useless."

Scourge almost flinched at the defeat in his Jedi's voice, and did flinch when the man managed to land a blow on him, a small punishment for his distraction. The Sith threw his best glower the human's way. Lomion flashed a tired grin.

"Through power I gain victory," he growled, lashing out at the knight. Lomion parried - it wasn't a graceful move by any means, any grace the knight had before they began sparring had faded long ago - but it was surprisingly strong. He continued to parry as Scourge continued to viciously assault him. Just a little longer, the Sith could almost hear the man think, just a little longer.

"Self-explanatory," Lomion ground out, dropping one blade to the floor. Scourge kicked it out of the way and dodged when the knight swung at him. He'd been fighting a mostly defensive war up to this point, and the Sith was legitimately surprised when the Jedi began to push him back across the mat to the opposite wall. "When we have power and control over ourselves and our emotions, we can focus on something other than being broken." He whirled the training blade towards Scourge's head and the Sith barely dodged. Lomion pressed his attack.

Scourge chose to remain silent in favour of blocking the Jedi's newfound fervor. It was around early noon when he finally cornered the Sith and forced him to concede the match. Lomion flopped on the floor, his breathing almost asthmatic. Scourge crouched next to his head.

"And what have we learned today, Jedi?" he asked, earning him an amused huff.

"You're a jerk?" Those green eyes sparkled with a mirth not reflected by his tired smile. Scourge gave him a small smile in return.

"You already knew that, Jedi." Lomion laughed softly.

"Alright, I'll give you that," Scourge raised an eyebrow. "Fine. 'Through victory my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."

"Very good. Now sit up so I can remove your collar." He delighted in Lomion's small shiver as full contact to the Force returned. He watched Lomion's easy grin fall into place - an expression he hadn't seen since Corellia. It hit him, then, what exactly Lomion had just done, and the temptation to pin him down grew a small fraction. The Jedi had found peace and resolve in the Sith code. The thought made him laugh. Of course a Jedi would do that. Scourge looked up as Lomion stood and offered a hand to him. He took it, and with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary, heaved himself up to his full height. He didn't let go, electing instead to stare into Lomion's eyes. His Jedi smiled again.

"Thank you, Scourge. It was enlightening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those things I want to refine but probably never will. I absolutely love the interactions in-game between Scourge and the Knight, and I sincerely hope I caught some of that spirit here.
> 
> Also, don't ask me about the science behind collars that block the Force. Because I've got no idea how it works beyond hand-wavy sci-fi logic.


	3. Restless Nights

Lomion sat on the floor of his quarters aboard the Endeavor. He'd been attempting to meditate for the better part of an hour, but couldn't. His robes were either too heavy or too warm, his tunic and undershirt chaffed at his joints or sat weird on his skin. He was almost tempted to meditate naked, but fear of being needed kept him from acting on that particular desire. The last thing he needed was to be summoned to the bridge whilst still in his birthday suit.

 

He did throw his robe off, and that helped a little. Lomion sighed, rolling his shoulders. Over-sensitive skin had been an issue for longer than he could remember, but he could usually ignore it nowadays. It got worse when he was alone with his thoughts. Or certain Sith. He shook his head, dragging his thoughts to more "Jedi" topics.

 

The last mission. He needed to have a good enough answer by the time they made it to Tython. He'd killed Master Braga out of disgust, but after the act...watching the former Jedi's body slump forward had slammed Lomion roughly back into the present and he'd run. Run back to the base where there were dozens of Jedi waiting, waiting to sense his guilt and fear. They would turn him away if they knew his reasons.

 

Bengal Morr had greeted him, stoic and calm. Lomion remembered hugging the Nautolan, holding on to him like he was some sort of lifeline. Morr had held him back, hands still but firm, not saying a word. He'd known. Now, Lomion wished for nothing more than his friend beside him, talking him through his guilt.

 

Instead, he got...Lomion tilted his head, trying to sense the presence rapping lightly on his door. His jaw tightened with the realization it was Scourge. The Sith had been inordinately pleased with his actions on Corellia for someone with no emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else get oversensitive sometimes? Nothing seems to fit right and it just seems easier to be totally nude? Yeah. Not fun.
> 
> Also, I know this cuts off kind of suddenly. I tried thinking of something to follow, but none of the scenes I wrote out worked or sounded right and...after a while, I just kinda gave up.

**Author's Note:**

> "There is no such source of error as the pursuit of absolute truth." - Samuel Butler
> 
> Fair warning, I play fast and loose with the continuity of things. Chances are, I don't know when stuff is supposed to be taking place, and I am eternally sorry if that causes any issues.


End file.
